


Three Little Clones

by UnderCoverMarsupial



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Scars, Snippets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-12
Updated: 2017-11-12
Packaged: 2019-02-01 02:33:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12695343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnderCoverMarsupial/pseuds/UnderCoverMarsupial
Summary: Set after TPM. Maul healing from his ALMOST being cut in half, rejected by his master, rolling with some convoy security mercenaries while he decides what to do next.





	Three Little Clones

If you wanted to ask Maul questions, the timing had to be just right. Get him drinking (gin, neat, if you want truth, tequila if you want bullshit) and he will answer questions about his terrorist days, his hits, his near misses, all the blood and blaster stories you want.

If you want to ask him anything personal then you have to catch him tired, really tired. Or rather, Kila has to catch him tired, then he slips up and answers things. You can eavesdrop if they don’t notice you.

Maybe it’s the scars, maybe its her age, or the fact that she doesn’t talk much either. But when Kila asks, he answers. Eavesdropping is hard though; they seem to know when people are listening and they’ll chat quietly about weapons and drones and calculating equations that no one understands. But if you stick by them, fading into the background, and not getting put to sleep by their usual talk, you can catch a gem or two.

“How old were you, when the old man took you?” Kila’s voice is low and harsh, which may be why she doesn’t talk much. The scar tugging the corner of her mouth gives her trouble with some sounds. They had trained all day, then overhauled part of the _Bearclaw_ ’s hyperdrive. Now they were fixing a motivator. It had been a long day. The crew was resting from another successful haul at an old spaceport on Alderaan, hard by the mountains.

“A boy. 7, maybe a little older. I had earned my tattoos,” Maul answered, also speaking softly. The two were sitting back to back, clearly exhausted, sorting through drone parts. Periodically one or the other would stretch their backs, never losing contact. Sometimes Kila burrowed closer into Maul. Sometimes Maul would lean back and rub his head against Kila’s.

“And you?” he asked. He spoke like a spoiled nobleman, some rich bastard from the Inner Core. It made some of the crew dislike him, he was clearly too educated, too damn special, to be with a crew like theirs. It was Captain Ridley’s decision to pick him up off of Naboo. His wounds had been horrific; and his fevered raving, all in that soft cultured voice, had told a story radically different from what any of them thought. After the first day Kila had insisted on being the only one to tend him. What he knew, what was pouring out of his mouth in that poncey accent of his was too dangerous, even terrifying, for the rest of the crew to hear. They had agreed hastily, gathering back in _Beartooth_ ’s ready room and murmuring about what they had heard.

“About 3,” Kila said. “The Jedi took me first. They like them young. I think I did ten standards in the Ag Corps.”

“How old are you now?” Maul asked.

“I don’t know- you?”

“I don’t know either. Perhaps twenty-five standards? Maybe less.”

“You’re just a boy then.” Kila didn’t smile much but she nudged him with her elbow to show she was only teasing. He grunted.

“Maybe. I’m not sure how long my species live.”

“ _No one_ knows how long Nightbrothers live. The witches kill you before long. Once they’ve bred.”

“I am aware of that thank you," Maul said, a hint of annoyance in his tone.

There was a long period of silence and the last rays of the sun began to vanish behind the tops of the hills. The wind coming in the open cargo bay door got colder and colder still. Maul seemed to relish it, breathing deep, and tilting his head back against Kila’s. She shivered.

“I’m cold. Let’s put these away and I can get a jacket.”

This was the longest conversation they had had in anyone’s hearing. Little Kenshi, the only one who had stayed to listen, slunk off to share what he had learned with the other boys. Kenshi, Joss and Tin: three clone babies the crew had picked up on a moon outside Kamino. The boys looked about six, but no one really knew. They were alike as three peas. Except Tin had a malformed leg, held up by a homemade frame his brothers had rigged a wheel on. Joss was blind in one eye, his head perpetually tilted to see. And Kenshi was fine. Perfect in every way. But he had refused to abandon his defective brothers, and so had been abandoned with them in turn.

Wrapped in a jacket Kila stood by Maul at the open bay door. Their combined breaths wreathed around them like a cloud. Maul’s whole body expressed fatigue- the lines on his face drawn tight, his back straight but his shoulders sagging. Kila put her hand on his shoulder.

“Your wound won’t heal right if you drive yourself like this,” she said. Her words slurred more than usual, the scar pulling tight. She was tired too.

“Bah, what difference does it make?” Maul snapped.

“Your range of motion could mean your life some day.”

Maul turned to her, his eyes blazing, a sneer twisting his face.

“I don’t _care_ about my _life_ ,” he snapped, his voice dripping with scorn. “So you can stop pretending you do.”

He appeared about to say more, but he wrestled his emotions down and turned back to the mountains, breathing hard through his nose.

Kila shrugged and turned on her heel, headed back into the ship. Maul took a step after her but then turned back, his fists clenched at his sides.

Everyone knew Kila’s cold shoulder was arctic, deep space, carbonite cold. At first Maul resisted, feeding his anger and grinding his teeth. Mari tried to talk him out of it, and while the Zabrak couldn’t bring himself to be cruel to her, he made it clear that he wanted to be left alone. Even the little boys stayed clear of him. But he didn’t last. No one could last under the howling winds of Kila’s disregard. Everyone saw the Zabrak watching their taciturn mechanic, and bets were laid on how long he could hold out.

The crew heard parts of the argument thanks to the boys: Maul’s tirades, Kila’s scathing replies, the sound of objects hurled against the wall.

Kenshi had his ear pressed against the door, signing frantically to the yeoman across the room. Chips was pretending not to listen, one head turned away, casually watching the hall. The other head was focused on Kenshi, nodding encouragingly.

_Your fault_

_No_

_Yes_

_Something about destiny_

_Kila is laughing_

_Ungrateful fucker—ooh she said a bad word!_

_Maul is shouting_

_Should have let me die_

_Kila is talking but its too quiet_

_Something broke! A lamp I think?_

_Maul doesn’t want something_

_Kila is laughing again._

_Now its quiet_

_Please, someone said please_

_Its quiet again-_

_Something else broke!_

_Both shouting I can’t tell what-_

_Oh no! They’re coming!_

With that the little boy scrambled away from the door, zipping around the corner right under Yeoman Chips’ knees. The signal specialist tucked his datapad into his pocket and strolled casually down the hall just as the door behind him blew open with a bang. The pair from inside stormed off in different directions, both muttering under their breaths.

But that night they sat together to eat- not speaking, refusing to look at each other, but sitting side by side. The rest of the crew eyed them warily.

Two days later little Tin came wheeling into the boys’ room as fast as his little metal leg would let him, red faced and out of breath.

“They’re _kissing!_ ” he gasped to the others. Piling out of their bunks the two other brothers each scooped up one of Tin’s arms and carried him back out to the hall at a dead run, all three stopping in a pile at the last corner before the ready room, cautiously peeking around the side.

Kila and Maul were wedged in the corner by the water tank. Kila was taller, but Maul was stronger. He held one of her wrists over her head, but she had a fist wrapped around the horn on the back of his head. They were kissing alright, but not like the kissing the boys had seen. (Mari and Wexley kissed all the time, they were married-and-in-love and Mari had pups in her belly. And Corin and Dommi kissed too even though they were old men and only had three non-robotic limbs between them.) But this was different. Maul was growling lightly in his chest, and Kila was shaking his head roughly by the horn. They almost seemed like they were fighting.

Kenshi and Tin stared open-mouthed while Joss closed his good eye and shook his head. He stuck his tongue out as far as it would go and waggled his nose, a trick he had perfected this last month and Tin burst out laughing, his high pitch giggle escaping before Kenshi could clap a hand over his brother’s mouth.

Maul was on them before they could even draw breath.

“Is it not possible to get some privacy on this damn vessel?!” he bellowed at them. He had Kenshi and Joss each by an ear and Tin pinned to the wall with his red and gold gaze.

“Kila! Kila, we’re sorry! We’re sorry! We wont do it again! We’re sorry Maul! ow! let go! Kila help!”

Kila laughed, an awkward sound that the boys loved because it was a real, happy laugh and Kila didn’t do those enough, despite their best efforts. The boys writhing in Maul’s grip stopped and stared at her, little gap toothed mouths hanging open.

“Kila, why is he kissing you so _mean_?” Tin asked- surer of his escape than his brothers

Maul snarled as Kila laughed again. This time she couldn’t seem to stop, even as Maul was glaring at her.

“I didn’t kiss her mean- she was- No. I don’t owe you creatures any explanation- get OUT!” Maul snapped.

 “No! Kila, we won’t let him kiss you mean! We’ll fight you, Maul!” Joss, the brave one- the little knight. Kila pulled herself together and patted Joss on the head.

 “Don’t worry little ones, he wasn’t kissing me mean. He just doesn’t know how.”

Maul’s glare slid off his face and he blinked in surprise. In that moment the two boys slipped free and all three ran a few steps before turning back. Maul was glaring at Kila, the boys forgotten.

"What is that supposed to mean?” Maul asked carefully.

“Run along now my dears- leave Maul to me,” Kila continued, still smiling, though it pulled her scar painfully. The two bigger boys scooped up their one legged brother and ran, giggling, back to their room.

 “What do you mean I don’t know how?" Maul asked again.

“Have you ever even been with a woman?” Kila asked, still smiling.

“Yes!”

“That wasn’t a whore?”

“…”

“…”

“I didn’t think so. Come on- lets go back to my quarters and I’ll teach you”

“I don’t need to be taught to kiss…”

“Mmmm, come anyway.”

“Yes, yes we’ll see about this.”

 --------------- 

After that there was slightly more peace on board. They signed on to guard a Hutt crossing Separatist space and then a convoy coming back. It wasn’t their usual fighting but the crew didn’t object. They had lost some good people in the early days. Captain Ridley said they had made their bones, and with this new bigger ship they could use that reputation to get some cushier jobs.

Mari had her twin pups to the fascination of the boys- a long talk about tank grown versus womb born babies ensued that left the boys wide eyed and giggling. The word “penis” was heard shouted around the ship for days afterwards until Maul, always formal, put a stop to it.

“Maul?” It was Kenshi of course, all wide eyed with mischief. The other two could be heard giggling behind the nearest mech crate.

“Maul, do you have tattoos _on your penis?”_ The last in a trembling whisper that threatened laughter at any moment. Maul blinked but then surged to his feet.

“What kind of a question is that?! The next child who says _penis_ will be beaten and made to clean the heads for a week!” When Maul tilted his chin and spoke in that cold tone everyone minded their p’s and q’s. He was teaching the boys to read and “to be civilized” and his tolerance for nonsense was nil. They knew it and Kenshi slunk back to his brothers, his eyes shining with tears. Maul sat down again with a growl.

“For the record,” Kila’s voice called down from the speeder turret she was working in, “the answer is yes.”

Three shrieking, laughing little boys sprinted across the bay, dodging Force-thrown tools as they went. 

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I am accepting prompts for this AU. I'm on tumblr at <https://smarsupial.tumblr.com> or leave a comment here! 

 

 

 

 


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